The Blinding White Light
by flamemouth27
Summary: What did the Wizard do after he found out Elphaba was his daughter? What was his life like when he got back to Earth? Will he ever find closure? Musical-verse with names and references from the book. One-shot.


**Hey guys! So this story is one of my PES (Pre-exam stories). Is it weird that I get the best story ideas during exam period, and get writer's block when I have nothing to do? Well anyways, this story will remain a one-shot as I don't intend to continue it. Hope you enjoy!**

**Summary: What did the Wizard do after he found out Elphaba was his daughter? What was his life like when he got back to Earth? Will he ever find closure? Musical-verse w/ names and references from the book.**

**Rating: K+ for a single swear word**

**Genre: Angst, kind of spiritual/not really/I don't really know, Supernatural (kind of), Mystery and Adventurey(ish)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything.**

Blinding white light. That was the last thing our very own Oscar Diggs had seen, before he had opened his eyes and found himself in a hospital room. The first thing after he had blinked away the light though, was that there was _lighting_, and it was powered by _electricity_.

_Strange…I don't recall there any electrical lighting at the Emerald City hospital…_ And that was when it all came back to him; how he had found out that the supposed 'Wicked Witch of the West' was his daughter, how he had killed her, and of how he had gotten into a hot air-balloon and had headed straight for a tornado… He still couldn't believe himself; he had killed his_ own daughter_. Not only that, but made her life even worse than it already was before sending a group of cold blooded Gale Force soldiers after her.

He remembered the line he would say to everyone he met: _I am a sentimental man…_

_Bullshit_, he scolded himself. He was wallowing so deep in his regrets and self-loathing that he did not see that a nurse had entered into the room.

"Mr. Diggs?" she said tentatively.

He jumped, startled to see that she was there, and even more surprised when a middle-aged woman ran into the room.

"Oscar! You're awake! Thank the lord!" she exclaimed, hugging him tightly.

Completely bewildered, and not used to hearing his actual name being said, Oscar pried the woman's arms off him, and was shocked to see that he was wearing a white hospital gown, and not his Wizard of Oz attire. The woman, who had taken a step back, stared at him with an expression of hurt across her features, but he didn't care to notice.

"Where am I?" he barked, surprised that his voice sounded like it hadn't been used in years.

"Kansas' Local Hospital," stated the nurse.

"A-and…what's the date?" he asked, afraid of the answer.

"August 19th, 1939." said the woman.

Oscar could not remember the year in which he had arrived in Oz, but that question had been quickly answered when a doctor had come into the room.

"I must say, I did not expect him to wake so early." He stated.

Oscar gave the man a questioning look, in which the doctor merely smiled, a bit sympathetically. "You've been in a coma for around 22 years, Oscar Diggs."

* * *

Oscar didn't know which was harder; putting his life in Oz behind him, or trying to remind himself that Oz was probably not even a real place, that maybe it was just an imagination.

"After your hot air balloon was caught in that tornado 22 odd years ago, you landed in the middle of a farmland. Luckily, you were seen by several monks who had been travelling. They had taken care of you, although you did not wake from your coma." The doctor had said.

It had been five months since he had woken up at the hospital, found out that he had been in a coma for 22-or-so years, and that his life back in Oz was never real. _Nor was Elphaba…_but he had quickly ridded himself of that thought, and focused on the woman that sat across from him, Wendy Pennyworth. She was the same woman who had visited him at the hospital, the one who he had later discovered that it was actually his sister, and the one who was now middle aged, mother of two and was married to a wealthy merchant from Baltimore.

He pretended to be interested in whatever she was droning on about, but it wasn't long before the sounds of the front door opening was heard throughout the house.

"Mum! I'm home!" yelled a voice.

Margaret Pennyworth, around the age of nineteen walked into the dining room gracefully, kissing her mother on the cheek before turning to Oscar and giving him a peck as well.

"Hello, uncle." she greeted him, in which he merely forced a smile in return, for he was still deep in his thoughts about his previous life in Oz.

"You seem radiant today, dear." commented Wendy.

"Yes…because Timothy proposed!" exclaimed the younger girl, bouncing with excitement.

Wendy beamed at her daughter as she leant forth to hug her, happy beyond belief.

"That's fabulous news! Did you hear that, brother dear? My little Margaret will soon be Mrs. Maguire."

Wendy had then gone suspiciously misty-eyed after that, in which the younger woman had gone forth and hugged her mother tighter.

"Congratulations." smiled Oscar, happy for his niece, although the thought of an engagement reminded himself of Oz once again; _"Glinda, dear! I am happy for you_…"

* * *

It was late November, which meant that nights would drop below zero degrees as Oscar stepped onto the pavement on the street and began to walk. There a light drizzle, yet with the howling wind, it made it seem more like a mini blizzard, not that Oscar cared much. He did not feel the rain dripping down his face, or soaking his large coat as he continued to walk. He just needed to get some air, _bad_.

That morning, he had also discovered that he had in fact, _not _been at the hospital for 22 years. Apparently he was only brought in by the monks just a week prior to his awakening. By now, Oz had seemed like a dream, which it probably was, because it seemed less and less likely that the existence of Oz could be true at all. Margeret had her wedding three months ago, and needless to say, she going to be expecting her first child during the summer of 1941.

Oscar had seen several therapists, in which he had actually told them all about Oz, but all they said was that it was merely a hallucination, created from his own imagination when he was in a coma. And he believed that, for talking Animals and a city of Emeralds now seemed ridiculous after the posters to enlist to fight in the Second Great War was seen in every single corner of the street. It was dangerous to be walking around the streets at night, for the sounds of war planes flying overhead was heard every 30 minutes, and the occasional war refugee hung about the dark alleys.

Oscar had realised that he was walked into the deserted town square, which there were shops with boarded up windows, most closed while some had been permanently gone out of business due to the shortage of supply. The setting in front of him seemed vaguely familiar though, as he recalled the pictures of the war between Gillikin and Ugabu had also caused similar situations. He sighed, as he had realised: no matter how much he had wanted to forget about Oz, the world seemed to keep on reminding him of his failures in that life. He needed closure.

Five more years past, and Oscar was getting ready to attend his grand-nephew's sixth birthday party. He checked himself in the mirror one more time, before grabbing his coat and headed out the door. He had just walked onto the pavement, when he noticed that a letter had been crammed into his letter box. Curious, he pulled it out, and was mildly bemused as he saw that the wax-seal on the letter had an imprint of a strange symbol, one that seemed faintly familiar, though he could not quite remember where he had seen it from. Glancing down the street for any evidence of the postman, he gingerly lifted the seal, and took out the small piece of paper that was in it,

_The element in which the wicked hath vanquished,_

_Is the place were us saints are banished._

_To have the closure of the questions you seek,_

_Go west, to the mountain's peak._

Oscar flipped the note backwards, but that was it. The poem was the only thing written on it, in an elegant cursive that was produced with ink. He pondered over the words, _the questions he was after?_ He was immensely confused by that, for he could not think of any sort of questions that he was after. Yet, something prickled in his mind as he read over the poem yet again…_in which the _wicked _hath vanquished_… Oscar's eyes widened as the name he had not thought of in years popped into his mind. "Elphaba…" he muttered, the name rolling off his tongue like a piece of newly chopped wood meeting sandpaper for the first time. He quickly tucked the note into his pocket, before rushing down the street towards the town square; his grand-nephew's birthday party would have to wait.

Hurrying down the street, he speed-walked as fast as a man in his mid-fifties could, and rounded a side alley as he headed towards the door at the end of the alley. Yanking it open and going inside, he swiftly strode across the room and sat impatiently down in front of a rounded table, with various melting candles all over it.

"Yackle." He called.

Yackle, an old lady who was a gypsy and the town fortune-teller sauntered into the room, raising an eyebrow as he saw Oscar sitting there.

"Master Diggs? Here at this time? What brings you?" she asked, intrigued and with a hint of amusement as she sat down across from him on the table.

"I got this letter today, perhaps you may decipher it?" he asked.

Yackle was one of the supposed 'therapists' that Oscar had spoken to about Oz, and she was pretty much the only one out of five doctors to not call his story absolutely ridiculous, or that it was probably an imagination or his interpretation of L. Frank Baum's children's classic.

She picked up the letter that was delivered to him off the table, and read over the poem. As she finished, a thoughtful look crossed her features as Oscar looked at her anxiously.

"Well?" he said.

Yackle furrowed her eyebrows as she continued to stare at the poem.

"I understand it," She stated, eyes never leaving the paper.

"There is a monastery, up towards the mountains in the west. Most people don't ever go there, and the few who do have said that it is nothing but an abandoned monastery of sorts.

"I'm not certain it is from there, but from the symbol on this wax seal, it seems to me that someone from that monastery has sent you an invitation to pay a visit," she said.

Oscar frowned. "I thought you said it was abandoned?"

"It is. Which is exactly why I encourage you to visit."

"Why?"

"Why _not_? You wanted answers, didn't you?"

He pondered over that for a moment, before finally giving in and nodded.

"How will I get there?" he asked.

"I can take you to the foot of the mountain. The rest of the journey would be on your own."

The middle-aged man sighed, but nodded all the same.

* * *

The mountain towered over him as he tipped his head back to get a better look. He had not anticipated the mountain to be _this _tall, but he was desperate to find answers about the note, that he had begun to climb the mountain. Several gruelling hours had passed, and finally, Oscar had reached the peak of the mountain. It turned out the journey wasn't as hard as it seemed, and it was fairly easy to get around the steep-slopes and the frost-covered rocks. The only problem was the fact that he could see nothing.

For miles and miles, all he saw were more and more mountain peaks, bundled together like a pack of feasting wolfs. Oscar felt a little ticked off, as he had realised that his journey here was nothing more than a hike up a mountain, and was about to leave when something caught his eye. Looking to the side of the mountain, he had initially missed the bridge of rocks that connected the mountain to the next, which meant that he also did not see the large cave that was carved into the other mountain that was cleverly concealed by the rocks.

Oscar slowly trudged down the peak, and arrived at the front of the cave and looked on. It was dusk, and he had to squint to be able to see the outlines of a door at the end of the cave. There were no lights, however, and all he had on him was a small flashlight that barely produced enough to let him see two fingers in front of him. The wind picked up, and the chilly winter air cut through his bones as he realised it was already too late to back down the mountain now. It was either go on, and freeze to death. He chose the former as he took a step into the cave.

As soon as his foot made contact with the ground, the torches that Oscar swore were not there a moment ago had lit up one by one, until the whole hallway down the cave was lit up brightly, and the door on the end seemed to welcome him in as he headed down the cave. Reaching the end of it, he reached for the handle, and was surprised to see the symbol that was on the wax seal of his letter was imprinted on the handle. Turning it and giving it a light push, the door creaked open slowly, and Oscar prepared himself of whatever was on the other side, but he was most certainly not expecting what actually was before him.

A large cavern with the sounds of rushing water was what was behind the door, and two lit torches were on the wall next to the door. A tunnel was carved out at the other end of the cavern, so Oscar, ever intrigued, started down it. Something glowed and illuminated bright silver at the end of the tunnel, and as he reached the end with led out to the other side of the mountain, he realised that he was at a shrine or something.

The large meadow before him was surrounded by the tall trees that Oscar did not see; obviously, this side of the mountain was never explored, and was probably predicted to be just a forest. In the middle of the clearing stood a large statue of a tall, regal looking woman, and he didn't know what was about it, but he had a feeling that he had met the woman before. An open book was clutched tightly in her hand, and her face was contorted in one of concentration. It was only then, when Oscar noticed that a large waterfall was behind the statue, and the water seemed to come from a valley from the mountain next to the one he'd just come from. The moon illuminated a wispy kind of silver, giving the statue a heavenly glow, and for a moment, Oscar had forgotten it was in the middle of winter.

"I see you have made it, Oscar Diggs." said a voice behind him, causing the said man to jump several feet in the air.

He turned, to see a hooded man standing a few metres behind him, the man's ebony black robe making him look something like the grim reaper.

"You sent the letter?" he asked.

The man nodded, while Oscar sighed in exasperation.

"Then why did you send it in such a confusing manner?"

"I knew from a friend of mine that we share a mutual acquaintance that would understand." said the hooded man mysteriously.

"Yackle?" asked Oscar.

The other man nodded.

"Hang on, who are you?"

"I will tell you in time. I presume you have understood now?" he asked.

Oscar quirked an eyebrow.

"Understand what?" he asked.

The man pointed to the memorial plate that Oscar did not see earlier.

_In memory of her greatness_

_In memory of her good deeds_

_In memory of her kindness_

_In memory of our saviour_

Oscar felt his blood run cold as he looked at the last line.

_In memory of Saint Ælphaba_

He couldn't breathe, as he felt his knees hit the ground, he could not believe his eyes and could feel what little hair that was left on his head stand on end, until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned, and saw that the man had now lowered his hood, to reveal his shoulder length dirty blonde hair, and piercing azure blue eyes.

"My name is Brrr. Welcome, to the house of Arjikis."

* * *

Oscar was still in the state of shock as he re-entered the cavern, and saw a group of hooded figures gathered inside. Brrr had pulled his hood back up by then, and called the group to order from their hushed whispering.

"Has he seen the shrine?" one of them asked, somewhat like a sneer.

Brrr nodded, but Oscar shakily raised his hand.

"Who are you all?" he asked tremblingly.

"_That_, we cannot tell you. But we can assure you, we have been in your position before."

"It is getting rather late, perhaps, you would like to stay for the night?" suggested Brrr, and Oscar could not help but agree, despite the fact that he was still in slight shock.

"I will show him." said Brrr, waving one of the other cloaked figures away, and together, the others flowed out and disappeared into separate tunnels that Oscar did not see earlier.

"Come, you have much to understand."

Once in the room, Brrr sat down on the chair beside the door, while Oscar settled on the hard single bed that he were to sleep in that night.

"Do you know the story of Saint Ælphaba, Oscar?" asked Brrr, and Oscar could not help but flinch at the name, but he shook his head.

"She was a…a witch, you could say. The legend goes that she loved nature and would go for walks in the forest. By doing this, she became more holy, until one day, she disappeared into a waterfall, where she did things like meditate and rest. No one ever saw her for centuries, until she suddenly came back out and scared all of the villagers out of their wits."

"Did you go to Oz as well?" asked Oscar suddenly.

Brrr looked taken aback, just slightly, but that expression was quickly changed into one of empathy as he smiled a bit sadly underneath his cloak.

"Yes." replied the younger man.

"I got there when I was merely a toddler. We have met before, you know."

Oscar quirked an eyebrow, frowning as he did not remember meeting anyone who even remotely resembled the young man before him.

"Not all people from Earth who go to Oz remain their human form. I assume you would know firsthand, as to how powerful the magic in Oz can be."

Brrr removed his hood once more, and looked at the older man critically as Oscar tapped his chin thoughtfully as he stared intensely at Brrr's dirty blonde hair. Something flickered in the back of his mind, and that was when it hit him.

"You were the cowardly lion." he said, almost accusingly as he pointed his finger at Brrr shakily.

"_Cowardly_? More like the _human _lion." scoffed Brrr.

"But…I don't understand…I saw you days before I came back to Earth."

"Yes, but you were unconscious for about a month or two before you woke in the hospital. I grew up as a lion, you see, and to tell the truth, I am actually only six years old. I guess maturing as a lion over the course of two years matures my human body as well, because when I was brought to Oz when I was three years old, I returned to Earth two years after, as a twenty five year old man."

"Are the others around here like you?" asked Oscar.

Brrr paused, thinking over the subject carefully before answering.

"Most of them are which is exactly why I would advise you not to go near them, as they still resent you for the supressing of the Animal Rights."

"I am truly sorry for that." said Oscar.

"And you are forgiven, by me anyways. But there was still another reason why Animals will forever hold a grudge against you."

Oscar didn't need an elaboration for what the reason was, and Brrr knew that the older man had figured out too.

"You see, Oscar Diggs, a witch never truly dies. She may disappear for some time, yes, but that does not mean that she is truly dead. Whether she returns by taking a mortal form, or by taking a spiritual form, I do not know. But perhaps, for this _particular _witch, maybe _you_ can decide how she would return."

Oscar grew confused, as in _very _confused. He looked up for an explanation, but Brrr had already turned the door handle, and took a step outside.

"Rest, Master Diggs."

And with that, the young man had shut the door behind him, and his footsteps faded into mere echoes.

* * *

Oscar found it difficult to sleep that night, and it wasn't because of the uncomfortably hard bed. No, it was because his mind would not let him rest. Brrr's words rang through his ears as he twisted and turned in his sheets, tangling himself deeper into its fabric. In the morning, as Oscar left his room and went back through the tunnel and into the main cavern, he was surprised to see that there was no one in sight. The monastery itself seemed to cease of another living being.

The walls looked older as it seemed that moss had clawed its way through the gaps in the stone bricks. The way to the shrine was now sealed shut, and it looked as it if had been closed for centuries. All the torch holders were now rusted and seemed untouched, and the only lighting was the morning sun streaming through the large open doorway that had once been a door. Oscar, seeing no point as to staying there, headed outside and began his journey down the mountain, where Yackle was waiting by the carriage.

"How was it?" asked the old lady.

Oscar did not reply as he wordlessly entered the carriage, deep in thought, although his confused yet guilt-stricken face told it all.

"Badly, or at least, not that well, I suppose." muttered Yackle under her breath as she then told the driver to take them back to town.

* * *

Four more years past, and Oscar was beginning to feel aches in places whenever he bent down or crouched. He was house-sitting for Margaret, and was currently trying to horde her six children to bed, but they were still on their adrenaline rush as they all but bounced around. All except for ten-year-old Gregory, who sat in a corner and read his book.

"Alright, kids. Time for bed." said Oscar for the last time, fatigue hitting him heavily as he sat on the couch and rubbed his temple.

"But uncle! We're not tired." said one of them.

"It's only the evening!" said another.

"Uncle! Uncle! Read us a story!"

The children cheered as they pushed a book into his lap and sat around him. He sighed as he beckoned Gregory over as well, and told him to join his siblings. Oscar then looked down at the book, and felt as if the world was mocking him as he stared at the title. _The Wonderful Wizard of Oz_. So he read it, nonetheless, and by the time he was finished with the story, the children were trying-and failing to keep their eyelids open.

"Time for bed." he said, and this time, they all but agreed.

As Oscar shut the door to the youngest child's bedroom, he saw that the light to Gregory's room was still on, so he proceeded down the hall and peeking inside.

"Gregory, it's time to sleep." he chided softly, but the young boy merely shook his head stubbornly.

"I am the oldest. I am not tired yet." said the boy.

Oscar settled on the foot of his bed as he then chuckled when he noticed a photograph stuck on the wall.

"Are you still mad at me for not showing up at your sixth birthday party?" asked Oscar.

Gregory huffed.

"Yes, grand-uncle. You _promised _you would go, but you didn't come." scolded the young boy.

It was then, when Oscar's thoughts drifted to the words said by Brrr that day, and it was Gregory who interrupted him moments later.

"Uncle...is there people out there that are really wicked?"

Oscar looked up at the young boy and noticed that he was staring at the book that Oscar had read to the children just an hour ago.

"Yes, but there are some who are just…mistaken to be wicked."

Suddenly, Oscar understood. He finally understood what Brrr meant, the words that the young man had told him years ago. His closure.

Gregory looked at him questioningly, so Oscar gave his grand-nephew a sad smile as he sat down on the chair next to his bed.

"This is the story of a girl who was born with green skin…her name was Elphaba."

And somewhere…far into the mountains that was miles from the city…a being stirred in the cave behind a waterfall.

**A/N Anyone guess who Gregory is? Gregory Maguire... ;)... Tell me in reviews if you make a connection! Thanks for reading! :D**


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